Parties
by curlyred
Summary: Reid accidentally gets a little drunk at a party.  Just a little fun.


"Come on, come on," Garcia herded the team out the doorway to the BAU, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

The others laughed. Garcia was throwing a party for everyone in the building and was very excited about her venture. As the others went to their cars, Reid approached Morgan.

"Here's you're calculator….I borrowed it earlier."

"Thanks," Morgan accepted it awkwardly, "Hey, you're coming right."

"No, I was going to go home and do some reading. I'm reading this book about the Mayan Indians…"

"No, no you're not," Morgan interjected, "Reid, have you ever even been to a party?"

Reid just looked sheepishly at the ground.

"No, come on, get in." Morgan motioned to his car, "You're going."

Reid silently obliged, climbing into the passenger seat of Morgan's car.

"So…" Reid said after a long silence, "What does one do at a party?"

"You socialize, dance, have a drink."

"I don't dance, I don't drink and I think we all know how good I am at socializing," Reid said nervously.

"Hey, don't worry about it man. You'll be fine."

Seeing Reid's look of uncertainty, he added, "I'll look out for you. Promise."

Once at the party, Reid wandered amongst the dancing people, briefly considering asking JJ to dance with him, but then he didn't dance and would only further embarrass himself. Lining the back yard where everyone was dancing were small clusters of people talking. Most of them Reid knew or recognized, but couldn't quite bring himself to attempt conversation. He wanted to escape this night without embarrassment. He was standing by himself when Morgan approached him.

"Hey, Reid," He said loudly, "Having fun."

Reid just looked at him quizzically. Still determined to bring him out of his shell a little bit, Morgan filled two cups from the punch bowl and handed one to Reid.

"I…don't drink," Reid said, handing it back.

"No," Morgan put up a hand to stop him, "Just a little won't hurt you. Try it at least?"

Reid took a tentative sip and grimaced.

"It's good," He said heartlessly.

Prentiss tapped Morgan on the shoulder and he walked off with her. Reid frowned, feeling like a disappointment. Even Gideon and Hotch were having fun. They sat at the bar drinking shots of scotch and laughing heartily. Reid wondered if he would ever be any fun.

"It can't be that bad," He consoled himself as he forced himself to take a large gulp of the punch. He found that once you got used to the burn it really didn't taste horrible. He downed the rest of the cup and went to talk to Gideon and Hotch.

"Hey, Reid," It was one of the rare occasions when Hotch was actually smiling, "How's it going?"

"Good…ummm…Gideon…Could I try one of those?" he motioned to Gideon's dirnk.

Gideon looked up at him surprised. He thought Hotch's jaw was going to hit the floor.

"Sure," Gideon laughed easily, pouring him a shot, and handing him a glass of water.

"Now, what you want to do is slam the whole thing real fast then take a sip of water immediately after," He explained, "It lessens the burn a little bit."

Reid obeyed. For a second it hit him so hard he thought he might vomit from the burning sensation.

"Water," Hotch reminded.

Reid quickly gulped the water down.

"Smooth," Reid attempted a smile.

Gideon and Hotch were both laughing heartily now.

"Maybe we could start you with something a little less intense," Gideon suggested, getting up and retrieving a bottle of tequila, salt and lime.

"Okay, this is kind of fun," Hotch joined the game, "Give me your wrist."

When he reluctantly obliged, Hotch poured some salt on it while Gideon cut the lime in half.

"Okay, here's what you're going to do. You lick the salt off your wrist, take the shot, then suck on the lime. Real quick, got it."

"You're messing with me," Reid accused, "You're just trying to make me look silly."

"I'll do one with you," Hotch volunteered.

"Ready?" Gideon dictated, "Okay…Lick…Drink…Lime."

After sucking the lime, Reid looked up surprised, "That was surprisingly smooth."

That was when JJ walked by.

"Reid, you're not letting these guys feed you hard stuff are you?" She teased, "Come here, let me make you a real drink."

Reid stood, unsure of what to do while JJ concocted a yellow and pink drink with cherries and umbrellas in a ridiculously curvy glass. When she handed it to him he took a tentative sip.

"Wow, this is good," He said, "What is it?"

"It's called Sex on the Beach, do you like it?"

"Do I like sex on the beach?" Reid stammered, "Well, I…I like drinking sex…but not real sex….on the beach….I….." He looked hopelessly to Hotch to save him but JJ said,

"Come on, we're dancing."

Reid let her pull him out on the dance floor, shoving his floofy drink off on the passing Morgan, who gave him a curious look. Reid fumbled awkwardly through a dance with JJ. At first his heart was pounding, he stood stiffly with his hands sweating but soon he began to feel funny. He felt a little detatched, light and his head didn't seem to be quite right. He supposed he might be feeling the effects of the alcohol, although he had only had a little.

The song ended and JJ spun him off the floor where he stumbled into Morgan, who handed his drink back to him.

"Hey, you just danced with a woman did you know that?"

"I had a drink too. Watch this."

Morgan watched as Reid chugged the rest of the Sex on the Beach.

"Hey, Reid, you know you're not supposed to drink like that," Morgan said, "You're just supposed to sip it."

"Don't worry, Morgan, I won't get drunk. I've only had a little bit. I just wanted to show you that I can chug…cause that's what you do at parties."

"Alright, go easy on those drinks though."

Morgan patted him on the shoulder and Reid went on his way. He was aware that his head felt a little strange, and wondered if he could perhaps push it just a little more. Not get drunk or anything, just see if he could feel a little more happy. He figured a few more shots was nowhere near enough to get him drunk.

When he got behind the bar there were so many different things he wanted to try. He first poured a shot of bicardi, then whiskey, then bourbon, and made a screwdriver and a white Russian, not knowing what these were, only copying what others had made. He made conversation with Gideon and Hotch the whole time, as well as even a few strangers who joined the conversation. The others were not watching him intently and didn't know how much he was drinking or they would have cut him off. Having never drank more than a sip before he didn't understand that shots were much more potent than say a glass of orange juice. He didn't realize how much he had consumed in relation to how much was normal.

He vaguely realized that talking to strangers was not like him, but he could still see, walk, talk and think straight so he figured he was fine. He didn't realize that he had consumed all of this in a matter of fifteen minutes and it would take a while to hit him. Figuring he wanted to push that odd feeling just a little farther, he poured a half a glass of vodka and mixed it with soda, figuring that would be all for the night.

He wandered out onto the dance floor as he sipped it. All of the sudden, he began noticing that people seemed to be moving wrong, that everything was just a little off. Before he knew it he couldn't focus his eyes for even a second and his thoughts seemed to be repeating themselves. He quickly finished his drink without thinking and before he knew it JJ handed him another Sex on the Beach.

"Are you okay, Reid?" She asked, noticing that he seemed a little odd.

"Um…yeah," He said uncertainly, "How could I not be okay, I'm drinking sex?"

JJ laughed and walked away. Reid set down his drink and wandered out onto the dance floor. He first pretended to slow dance with himself and then began wavering around like an epileptic lizard. Prentiss and JJ sat on the side watching and giggling.

"What's up, ladies?" Morgan approached, putting an arm around each of them.

"I think Reid's gotten himself a little tipsy," Prentiss pointed.

"Oh, this is great," Morgan laughed, "Hotch, Gideon, you guys gotta see this."

The team watched him for a while until finally he stumbled off the dance floor and reached for his drink.

"Hey, Reid," Gideon approached. The others followed, trying to restrain their giggles, "How you doing?"

"This is great. I'm drinking sex," Reid shouted.

The others burst into laughter.

"Reid, I don't envy you the day you're going to have on Monday," Hotch chuckled.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

Reid was now having serious trouble focusing and swayed dangerously back and forth. He couldn't even harness his mind to process things. He knew he must be a little drunker than he planned, but figured he could keep it a secret.

"No, nothings wrong, have a good time," Hotch smiled.

"You guys think I'm drunk, don't you?" Reid demanded.

They all answered with peils of laughter.

"You are a little drunk, sugar," Garcia said from behind, "But it's good. It's a compliment to the host."

"Yeah, host," Reid laughed.

"Damn, Reid, how much have you had?" She laughed.

"Um….punch, then scotch…Hotch gave me tequila shots….jj gave me sex on the beach…."

"You must be a lightweight," Gideon laughed.

"No, then I made a bourbon, a whiskey, a screwdriver, I had something I think it was rum…then vodka and coke…not very much though…just tiny little glasses."

"Holy shit," Prentiss scowled, "That's way too much. Reid, you'll be lucky if you sober up by morning."

"Morgan, let's dance…come on you wanna dance with me?"

Reid half fell into Morgan.

"Alright," Morgan laughed, "You want to dance, let's dance."

Morgan pulled him out on the dance floor while Garcia took lots and lots of photos for future teasing. Morgan couldn't keep a straight face.

"I feel bad," Gideon said, "The kid doesn't know about alcohol. I feel like I should've kept an eye on him. I even fed it to him….dammit."

"Hey, Gideon," Hotch said, "I know you always look out for him but he's an adult, he can learn about alcohol the hard way. He'll be sick tomorrow, but he'll learn."

"Yeah, I guess."

Morgan could see this conversation over Reid's shoulder and it was an easy enough guess as to what they were talking about. He could tell from their expressions they were worried, and they kept casting sidelong glances at the two of them. It reminded Morgan of his earlier promise to look out for Reid. Perhaps he hadn't done a great job of it. But then again he was definitely coming out of his shell a bit, maybe he was helping him after all.

"I'm thirsty," Reid announced, pulling away from the dancing, and heading toward the bar.

"I'll make you something," JJ volunteered, "How about water? Coke? Orange juice?"

"How about vodka?"

"No, I think you've had enough for tonight."

"I feel fine. In fact, I feel great."

"Give it an hour."

Reid spent the next hour bumbling about, talking to strangers, screaming about sex on the beach and falling down. The others kept an eye on him, making sure that each time he fell he pulled himself back up.

Finally he approached the team. Only the seven team members remained of the massive party. Garcia was rushing around cleaning up and the girls were helping her while the men sat in the living room talking quietly.

Reid stumbled into the living room.

"Did there used to be more people here? I like cotton candy."

It was like one long sentence.

"Yeah, I think the party's dying down, Reid," Hotch said.

"I love the party," Reid said, "We should…."

Then he suddenly lost control of his footing and tumbled to the ground. Instead of getting up he looked around curiously at the blur that was the rest of the team. He felt extrememly light headed now and the inability to focus was starting to scare him.

"Guys?"

"yeah?" Gideon responded.

"My eyes won't stay still."

"You're a little drunk," Gideon explained, "You'll be able to see fine in the morning."

"My head….I can't….I don't like this."

Reid was starting to sound genuinely frightened. He had never felt this way before and he knew it made him vulnerable.

"I'll take him home," Morgan volunteered. Reid saw him approach but couldn't make out who it was.

When Morgan slid his arms under Reid's arms to pull him up, Reid protested, flailing weakly,

"Get off of me…I don't even know who you are."

"Morgan. Ried. It's me. It's time for us to go home."

"My car…."

"No, you're not driving anywhere," Hotch said sternly, "Morgan will take you home."

"I gotta piss."

"Did you say piss?" Garcia asked surprised.

Morgan let him stumble his way to the bathroom. When he returned five minutes later he looked truly sick and terrified.

"I threw up," He announced.

He tried to take a step and would have went down had Morgan not been prepared and caught him. Reid could no longer even hold himself up so Morgan stood behind him with a strong arm wrapped around Reid's front, holding all of his weight easily.

"Come on, it's time to go."

Morgan pushed Reid, gently helping him walk towards the door.

"Gideon?" He asked as they walked down the driveway.

"No, it's Morgan," He reminded.

"Morgan….do you like cotton candy?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Did you know that they make it by….i forgot."

"Reid," Morgan laughed, "No one expects you to know everything when you're this drunk."

"Morgan," Reid suddenly stopped, "I can't be drunk."

"Why not?" Morgan asked, getting him moving again.

Reid was about to answer when Morgan pulled open the car door and Reid practically fell into the seat. By the time Morgan got in the drivers side, Reid was babbling to himself about seat belts.

"I don't think they're really as effective as they would like us to believe...look at the statistits. Skatistic. Statisc….did I say statistits? Boobs."

Morgan couldn't help but laugh at hearing Reid say boobs. He didn't know that word was even in the young geniuses vocabulary. Morgan chuckled as he drove, but soon it became apparent that Reid was not doing so well.

"You look kind of sick, are you alright?" Morgan asked.

"hmmmm," Reid responded with a moan.

Morgan had seen people so drunk they wouldn't move or speak and was afraid that Reid was heading in that direction. He made a mental note to give him lots of water when they reached his house.

"Where are we?" Reid asked weakly, looking out the window.

"Home sweet home," Morgan said, parking the car and getting out.

"I don't live here," Reid informed when Morgan pulled his door open.

"This is my house," Morgan explained as if to a two year old. One thing he had never thought he'd do was dumb down a conversation for Reid's benefit, "You're going to stay with me tonight."

"Why?"

Morgan pulled Reid up by his shoulders. The jolt caused Reid to vomit down the front of his shirt.

"Sorry."

"It's okay man," Morgan said disgustedly, "Put your hands up."

Reid obeyed and Morgan pulled the shirt over his head, careful not to get vomit on anything and tossed it aside for the time being. He helped the shirtless Reid into the house, where he set him on the edge of the tub and handed him a glass of water.

Half an hour passed. Reid was looking sicker and sicker. Morgan had gotten him into a pair of his pajama pants and a hoodie that was like a parachute on the skinny little man. Reid was sitting on the couch, eyes shifting drastically as he watched Morgan get a blanket and a big glass of water. Morgan sat down next to him and threw the blanket over his own pajamas. Reid grabbed and end and pulled it over himself.

Morgan had decided to try to keep him talking for a while to give the booze some time to wear off as well as make him drink some water, figuring it would lessen his hangover in the morning.

"So," Morgan said casually, handing him the glass of water, "You've never been drunk before?" seeing how the glass wavered in his hand he added, "Don't spill that."

"I can't be drunk," Reid said vigorously.

"Hey, it's alright. Sometimes it happens," Morgan said confused.

"You don't understand," Reid explained, "My father was a drunk. I swore I'd never be like him."

"Reid, you're not like him…" Morgan then realized he didn't know anything about Reid's parents. He knew his mother was in an institution for schitzophrenia and that it pained Reid to go see her but that was about it. Reid only told the others what he absolutely had to. There was a long pause and Reid understood what Morgan was thinking.

"Are you?" He finished at last.

"He was a drunk. Not the funny kind, either. He used to come home drunk…at night….yell at my mom…I used to run and hide for the most part but sometimes he would seek me out to tell me I was a freak."

Morgan listened intently.

"When I got older it got worse. My mom started getting sick and she'd forget things. He'd get mad but he could never hit her so he'd hit me instead. He started coming home drunk at lunchtime. After a while he lost his job, started working crap jobs. I was only seven or eight but I knew what was happening. Used to beat me every day. Then when my mom got too sick he left. She was institutionalized right before I graduated from high school so I went off to college and since I had nowhere to go home to I just kept going to school, getting PHD's and whatnot."

Reid looked up, realizing that in his semi-drunken stupor he had said more than he ever wanted anyone to know.

"Why didn't you tell someone?" Morgan asked.

"Who would I have told?"

"Fair enough. How is it that the team didn't know about this?"

"Why would I tell them? If I were to tell them that in a job interview they'd never have hired me. And I just never…thought it was relevant. Besides, I'm over it."

"Are you?" Morgan demanded, "Cause even though you think you're over something like that, you still think about it once in a while. Even if it was a long time ago."

"You talking about that guy, Carl Buford?"

"Yeah," Morgan said wistfully.

"So then it's normal…I mean…to still think about it every now and then….you can still be over it and….think about it," Reid swallowed, hating to be admitting this much.

"Yeah, I think so," Morgan said, "As long as it's only once in a while. As long as it doesn't still bother you every day."

"Okay, I guess by that definition I'm fine then," Reid said, "You know it's funny, I read so much about stuff like this. I should know what to expect but sometimes what the books say doesn't do justice to what really goes on in your head."

"There's some things you can't control even with that big old brain of yours," Morgan laughed.

"What about your dad?" Reid asked, "I know he died."

"He died when I was ten," Morgan started, "He was a great guy. We would go fishing, he used to take us to the beach. Always talked about how I would go to college. When he died I fell apart a little, started falling in with a bad crowd and….well I guess you know the rest…."

He looked over to see that Reid had fallen asleep. Morgan pulled the blanket up over him and lifted the half empty glass out of his hand. He put the glass in the sink and came back to look affectionately at the young genius on his couch before going to bed himself.

The next morning Reid woke up and looked around confused. His first thought was that he had been captured. When he realized he wasn't tied down or anything, he knew this didn't make sense, but he had no idea where he was, nor could he remember the events of the night before. He felt sick, and wondered if he may have been drugged. Slowly, shakily, he got up from the couch, letting the blanket fall.

He tried to calm the fear rising in his throat. He looked around again, trying to place himself but couldn't. He heard footsteps in the kitchen. He slowly crept toward the door. Where was his car? He had ridden to Garcia's in Morgan's car the previous night so his car must still be at work.

When he realized the footsteps were approaching him he started towards the front door, but didn't make it.

"Where you going?" Morgan demanded, "Trying to escape the walk of shame?"

Reid spun around, confused. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was only Morgan. Morgan noticed his deer-in-the-headlights look and tried to calm him down.

"You're alright," He chuckled.

"What happened?" He demanded confused.

"What do you remember?" Morgan asked.

"We went to a party….at Garcia's house, and I had a couple of drinks….." his face flushed, "Oh God, was I dancing?"

"I wouldn't call it that," Morgan teased.

Reid buried his face in his hands. That was when he realized he was feeling particularly queasy and reached out for the couch to steady himself.

"How do you feel?" Morgan couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Not so good," Reid admitted.

"Think you can eat?" Morgan asked, motioning for Reid to follow him to the kitchen.

Reid nodded, "Coffee?"

"Working on it," Morgan motioned to the pot that was brewing, "What do you want to eat, toast or bread?"

"You don't have eggs or something?"

"If you want but it won't stay down, I promise."

"Fine, toast."

Morgan put some toast in the toaster and when the coffee was ready he poured two cups, smiling as he dumped about a pound of sugar into Reid's cup. He looked up to see Reid smiling weakly back at him. Morgan sat down and Reid said,

"Morgan, were we……talking, last night….about….."

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"No, it's cool. Maybe you should talk more when you're sober."

"Well, I'm certainly never getting drunk again."

"Don't say that. You just went about it all wrong. Next time there's a party, I'll teach you how to drink."

"Oh, you're going to look out for me, is that right?" Reid smirked.

"Promise."


End file.
